


The Devil's in the Moon

by within_a_dream



Category: Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: Shaw doesn't mean to get himself shot, or to drag himself and his hairy, fanged problem to the Januarys' doorstep. But fate has a way of taking matters into its own hands.





	The Devil's in the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadlikeknives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlikeknives/gifts).



> Title from Lord Byron's _Don Juan_
> 
> Thank you to brigdh for betaing, and sadlikeknives for giving me an excuse to try out this pairing!

Shaw barely remembered taking the shot to his shoulder. There was more left of the memory left than from most of his wolf nights, the pain’d made it stick, but it was still a blur of noise and pain and a tang of blood in the air.

He should've made it out of town. He'd been on his way when he heard people shouting out at him, and a deep-seated panic had set in and sent him running to the Cabildo on a half-remembered path. Then the gunshot had set him off towards anywhere dark, and he’d ended up curled into a corner in an alley near Rue des Ramparts, waiting for the sun to rise.

He woke up the next morning stark naked and with his shoulder crusted in blood, too far from any of his clothes stashes to make use of them. He knew why he came here, too—he needed safety, and something in the part of him that stuck around thought 'Benjamin January'. Benjamin and Rose, and the house he never let himself stay too long in for fear of what he'd do.

He snuck up to the door, trying to stay to the shadows. Not too many folks still out on the street, but better to be careful. Then he knocked, praying Ben was awake, or at least sleeping light enough to hear him. Getting back to his room naked and shot through the shoulder would be a heap more trouble than making it across the street to the Januarys' patio had been.

Rose opened the door, peering out into the night with a candle in hand and glasses crooked. Before Shaw could explain himself, she gasped, "My God!" and flung the door open. "Come inside, quickly. I'll fetch Ben."

Somehow he made it to the parlor before his legs gave out. When Ben came running down the stairs, supply bag in hand, he was flat on the floor shivering. Cold in the middle of a New Orleans summer—not a good sign.

"Terribly sorry for bleedin' on your floor, Maestro." His voice was still hoarse—always was, after the shift back. "I woulda gone somewhere else if I coulda."

Ben set his bag to the side and crouched down next to him. "The floor is the least of my worries. What happened?"

It was hard enough to explain when the ceiling wasn't spinning in circles while he stared at it. Shaw shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me."

While he was trying to focus enough to get the words out, a pillow was slipped under his head and a blanket thrown across him. It dampened the shakes some, enough that Ben could get a look at his shoulder.

"I'm going to clean and bandage this. It will hurt," he warned.

"Can't be as bad as the bullet." Couldn't be as bad as the shift was, neither. "It went straight through, by the by."

"That makes things easier." Ben took a wet cloth that Rose handed him and wiped the dried blood off Shaw's skin, then dabbed at the wound. Shaw grit his teeth.

"You got this down smooth," he said. "You two make a habit of late-night doctoring?"

"Only when my friends make a habit of injuring themselves," Ben replied, a smile creeping across his lips.

That smile, and that word 'friend', shouldnt've made Shaw's heart flutter like a lovestruck boy. If he wasn't careful, he'd let it show.

"How _did_ you end up like this?" Rose brushed the hair out of his eyes, and the flutter spread farther, near drowning out the pain.

"You heard about the wolf running around the city?" When he saw Ben nod, Shaw went on. "Folks were out hunting tonight."

"And they shot you by accident and…stole your clothes?" He could hear the disbelief in Rose's voice.

"I do believe the shooting was on purpose, and my clothes were gone before that." Shaw shut his eyes and felt deep in his gut for the last bits of the wolf that kept its claws in him until the sun rose, and felt his face lengthen and coarse hair spring up on his arms. "I'm the wolf."

He couldn't hold the form longer than a few moments, but it did what he meant it to do. Ben dropped the cloth and stepped away, and Shaw could hear Rose gasp behind him. But the shift had taken all of the energy he'd been using to stay conscious, and he blacked out before he could respond to the fear in Ben's eyes.

 

Shaw woke up wearing someone else's nightshirt, feeling like he was in an ice bath.

_Fever_ , he thought. His shoulder ached and his head was filled with cotton. Someone held a glass of water to his lips— _Ben, it was Ben, silhouetted by a halo of light_ —and he drank, even though it only strengthened the cold in his veins.

 

He woke up to Rose changing the bandage on his shoulder. He was burning alive under the sheet, but when he tried to kick it off, his legs wouldn't work. He felt in his gut that he was dying.

"I love you," he said, the words scraping out of his throat. "An' I love Ben. Shoulda told you earlier…"

"Shh," Rose said, wiping a cool cloth across his forehead.

 

He woke up and saw Ben and Rose in the doorway, whispering to each other and sometimes looking over at him. He should know what they were talking about, he'd said something he shouldn't have, but it slipped away from him when he tried to think.

 

He woke up, skin salty with sweat and head clear for the first time in days, and began to realize what he'd said during the fever.

Couldn't just leave, either, not wearing a nightshirt and nothing else and weak from that long in bed. No, he'd have to face up to his idiocy.

Ben and Rose lingered in the doorway when they noticed he was awake, bringing back the half-remembered fever dream of the two of them whispering as he’d fallen in and out of sleep.

"I'll get out of your way," he said, wishing he wasn't so exposed.

"Don't be silly!" Rose said. "You're still not well, and we have plenty of beds while the students are away."

"You and I both know I said things I shouldn't have, and I ain't gonna intrude on your hospitality any more. I'll pay for the clothes, and the doctorin'—"

"You're welcome to leave, once you can be on your way safely," Ben said, emphasizing that last word. "But I think we'd all regret it if you left without discussing this."

"I saw you talkin' about me."

"You didn't hear any of it, apparently." Ben shook his head. "We wouldn't turn you out while you're recovering, no matter what you might have said while you were ill."

"And," Rose added, shooting a glance at Ben, "we'd been discussing our surprise that our feelings were reciprocated."

That set the room to spinning all over again. "I don't mean to pressure you into anything. I know this ain't an easy path, and that I ain't exactly a charmer."

"If you think you could pressure Rose or I into anything, you don't know us very well, my friend." Ben strode forward to sit at his bedside and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Rose joined him, taking Shaw's hand. "Get your strength back, because conversations await us. You need to tell us about this wolf."


End file.
